


To Dwell On Dreams

by alpacasandravens



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Dreaming, F/M, Fluff, However there is also, M/M, Slow Dancing, seen through Jervis's eyes so he doesn't realize how bad it was, there's all the Weird Shit that went on with Alice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 06:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19969378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacasandravens/pseuds/alpacasandravens
Summary: The problem with madness is, when reality begins to resemble a dream, dreams by necessity begin to resemble reality. Not through any fault of their own, for the dreams themselves do not change. Or do they?Or, Jervis can't quite figure out when he's dreaming and when he's awake.





	To Dwell On Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> brought to you by my love for hattercrow, my tendency to miss the first day of vacations because i think i'm dreaming, and almost (sweet music) on loop. title from dumbledore's quote about the mirror of the erised, because i'm pretentious. 
> 
> "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

The problem with madness is, when reality begins to resemble a dream, dreams by necessity begin to resemble reality. Not through any fault of their own, for the dreams themselves do not change. Or do they?

Jervis had enclosed himself in a dream so long ago he could not remember its origin. He vaguely remembered pain, and sadness, and a determination to never feel like that again. And then he remembered nothing.

That was a lie. He remembered everything, it’s just that everything he remembered wasn’t real. Sometimes, he even knew that. 

Reality wasn’t something he enjoyed overmuch. There was no joy in an existence that seemed determined to make itself colorless. So he had re-colored the universe around him, only realizing too late he hadn’t been coloring inside the lines. Looking at his beautiful new picture, he decided he didn’t care for the lines anyway.

Alice hadn’t wanted to join him. That was something he ignored, something he tried to forget. He hadn’t wanted to go alone, so he’d painted a smile on her face and a red heart in her chest and told himself it wasn’t an illusion. They’d danced across the sky and each time she ran, she did so with a smile on her face and when he caught her, she laughed. When he blinked, he saw her crying.

That had been a fracture in his picture, a small crack where the old paint had started to shrink as it dried. It was something that could have been easily painted over, mended, forgotten. Until Jim Gordon. Jim had ripped into his canvas with a knife, cutting out Alice’s silhouette and forcing Jervis to watch as he poured thinner on the paint. When he was done, a jagged hole of gray spread from his center, threatening to leach the color out of his carefully constructed world.

That same gaping absence didn’t follow him into his dreams. They remained in full color, exactly the Wonderland he had tried to hard to create, ready and waiting for him. Waking up always felt distinctly like loss.

He knew they were dreams, of course. He knew he was asleep as he flew over a landscape that stubbornly, thankfully refused to make sense, and he knew he was asleep as he poured Alice tea. She smiled, and her face wasn’t cracked behind the surface. Holding onto those dreams felt like grasping at the last bits of his mind as they inevitably slipped through the cracks in his fingers.

As time passed, the madness returned. His illusion was no longer perfect in his dreams, and some days he would wake up to a fully formed Wonderland around him. He tied the woman Jim still couldn’t get over to the tracks in front of a train and watched eagerly as she was ripped apart. He could see the gaping absence already beginning to form in Jim, mirroring his own. Jim raised his gun and Jervis laughed and woke up spluttering as Jerome poured a bucket of water on his face.

He sat in a flimsy plastic chair in Arkham’s rec room. Jerome laughed at his own joke as he walked past, Jonathan trailing just behind him. Jervis knew his place was next to Jonathan, flanking Jerome on his other side, the king of the madhouse and his right-hand-men. But he didn’t stand up, and Jerome didn’t notice his absence, and Jervis felt the sinking feeling that he wasn’t necessary. His illusion had failed, and he was alone. When he tried to imagine Alice, she was barely there, a memory of an idea. Someone kicked his leg, and he opened his eyes to see Jonathan. 

“It’s time,” he said. “Jerome’s plan is beginning.”

Jervis followed Jonathan to the dining room Jerome had chosen as his main base, standing close enough that Jonathan squinted at him suspiciously. Jervis didn’t care. He just wanted to be near someone, to know he was included.

He dreamt he was dancing with Alice on the roof. Around them, the gardens of the Red Queen twinkled in the starlight, and he heard music he couldn’t identify coming from somewhere far away. As he watched, Alice was replaced by Jonathan, who felt more solid than his Alice. Jonathan wasn’t the best dancer, but Jervis didn’t expect him to be. Even in a dream, it seemed, he couldn’t imagine the Scarecrow being graceful. 

Jonathan stepped on his foot, and it hurt. Jervis frowned. “Ow.” 

“Sorry.”

Jonathan blushed, and he looked so beautiful in the perpetual glow of Wonderland that Jervis stopped dancing. He wasn’t wearing his mask, though his eyes were smudged with dark makeup.

“I didn’t think I could dream anything this beautiful.”

“This isn’t a dream.” Jonathan knit his eyebrows in confusion. 

Jervis tilted his head back and listened to the music that drifted on the wind. “It must be. Reality has never been this kind.”

“Reality is harsh and uncaring, but never hostile. It can crush us and terrify us and still let us dance on the roof after a storm.”

Around them, the twinkling gardens resolved themselves into a city that can’t sleep, a million million lit windows on the sides of towers that break the clouds.

“Do you hear the music?”

“I hear the wind.”

“If you listen, it’s there. If you want it to be.” Jervis stepped slightly closer to Jonathan, and waited for Jonathan to move the last few inches, closing the space between them until they were closer to hugging than dancing. “All you have to do is believe.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed drop kudos or (even better) a comment below, or come shout about these idiots on tumblr @alpacasandravens!!


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